


It's Tradition

by Legs (InsanityRule)



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 23:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8421253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanityRule/pseuds/Legs
Summary: “This nearly blind master of flight is getting a bit too old to play dress up.”He’s ignoring them. Listening, certainly, but Bruce is not letting the two grown men bother him as he slowly drives the Batmobile towards Arkham. Since they’re not attempting to escape or crash the car or anything else to derail them from arriving, he’s going to accept this as his only chance to take a break, just for the drive.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a drawing I saw on tumblr, where Penguin and Riddler always do a heist on their anniversary.

“This nearly blind master of flight is getting a bit too old to play dress up.”

He’s ignoring them. Listening, certainly, but Bruce is not letting the two  _ grown  _ men bother him as he slowly drives the Batmobile towards Arkham. Since they’re not attempting to escape or crash the car or anything else to derail them from arriving, he’s going to accept this as his only chance to take a break, just for the drive.

“This flying mammalian vigilante should stop hand holding the Gotham police force.”

"Oswald you're being a bit too obvious and not insulting enough."

“Let's see, this over obsessed... costumed... I'm drawing a blank here Ed.”

"How about, the only Gothamite with a free license to indulge his strange obsession with Chiroptera."

“Chiroptera?”

"Bats, Os. Oh, here’s a good one, this gritty non-cop would rather ruin a perfectly nice evening than allow two people some simple pleasures in life,” he spits, voice becoming harder with every word.

Bruce sighs quietly behind his cowl. "Simple pleasures" lead him across the city three times and resulted in countless calls to Alfred late into the night to figure out these two were just  _ toying _ with him for the sake of a riddle and one of the smallest heists the two have ever committed, counting their early days. They snatched up the mayor's pen, which he has yet to recover. He's not terribly torn up about the loss of an expensive pen, but it's the principle of the thing. Allowing them to keep something they’ve stolen is out of the question.

He’ll confiscate it once they arrive.

“You sound bitter,” he comments.

“As a crabapple.” He watches the Riddler squirm in his seat, hands still firmly secured behind his back. “Tell me, don’t you have something better to do?”

“Doubtful considering how much time he had to waste trying to decipher your clues.”

“A  _ child  _ should have been able to solve those in an hour. It took you a full day. What kept you?”

“I was multitasking. You’re not the only ones trying to cause mayhem in Gotham.”

“Unlikely,” Riddler smirks. “And the reason you’re wasting more time by being our personal driver?”

He glances back again using the rearview mirror. Riddler has situated himself so he’s sitting crooked in the seat by the rear passenger window, shoulders pressed against the window and the back of the seat. Penguin is beside him in the middle, and they’ve been bumping their knees together occasionally during the drive. He’s pointedly ignoring it in favor of  _ not  _ opening that particular can of worms again. Instead he replies with a curt nod, “personal satisfaction.”

“What would the force do without you,” Penguin shakes his head, patronizing. Although Bruce has wondered this same thing more than once.

“Os, I take back what I said earlier. Clearly suggesting Batman is handholding the police is an insult, since they haven’t  _ learned  _ anything from him.”

“ _ I  _ thought so.”

“I mean, let’s get a little perspective in this  _ Batmobile _ ,” he shrugs his shoulders, Bruce notices, he’s usually talking with his hands, “our good friend here is the  _ best  _ Gotham has against some of the best criminal minds out there, and he’s dressed as a  _ bat _ .”

“Quite a statement from someone with question marks all over his suit.” Not to mention the  _ Penguin _ sitting beside him.

“I have always wondered, why a bat of all things. Why not just a shadow?”

“I'm the part of the bat that's not in the sky. I can swim in the ocean and yet remain dry. What am I?”

“A shadow?” Penguin leans his head against the back of the seat.

“Right.” Riddler appears to have abandoned his perspective talk in favor of distracting Penguin. He asks another. “When I’m metal or wood, I help you get home. When I’m flesh and I’m blood, In the darkness I roam.”

Bruce catches himself before he answers. He watches Riddler, glancing back to the road before returning to the rearview mirror, as he watches Penguin, willing him to answer correctly.  Penguin just looks tired, they both do. Riddler’s eyes crinkle even when he isn’t smiling, permanent crow’s feet at the outer corners. Penguin’s trim stomach is sporting the start of a pudge, the waistcoat is tight, two buttons straining. Riddler’s hat is still on his head, although it’s askance, but Penguin’s top hat is missing, the telltale signs of male pattern baldness more evident.  _ Both  _ of their suits could use a cleaning, and some time with a good seamstress to mend a few holes.

They’re claiming  _ he’s  _ too old for this, but they’ve been too old for this since he  _ started _ .

“A bat,” Riddler answers himself.

“They always seem so obvious in hindsight.”

“Most things do.”

Conversation ceases, and Bruce is just beginning to wonder what they’re plotting, but a quick glance in the rear view mirror gets him an eyeful, and he quietly tilts his rearview mirror up so neither are immediately visible when he checks for traffic. He clears his throat, “you’re not planning on attempting an escape during this trip, correct?”

“What’s that now? Taking our word for it? What’s a thing that can break without being held?”

“If you’re insinuating you’ll break your  _ promise  _ before you can even make it, I’ll leave the handcuffs on.”

He goes as far as actually turning around in his seat when he gets no response. The second he looks Riddler in the eye Riddler smirks, “why I didn’t know you had a  _ heart  _ under all that edgy black spandex.”

He does his best to ignore them after concluding to himself that full removal is unwise and settling on switching so their hands are no longer behind their backs. Bruce considers just removing the rearview mirror. It’s an easy enough fix.

He reaches Arkham well after normal admittance hours, but the head nurse comes out to greet him as he opens the back door and the two get out of the car without any trouble. ”You’d think we’d remember to anticipate this by now, since it’s the same day every year,” she says.

“I wouldn’t dedicate too much time on that.” One day wasted is hardly comparable to the measures it would take to actually keep the two of them from getting out. He notes as Riddler straightens that his hat has been knocked off. Later, once they’ve been properly admitted, he’ll turn it in at the nurse’s station.

“Do you have any recommendations?” she asks, quieter, once another nurse has started leading them to the long term wing.

“If you don’t already, just keep them in the same cell.”

“We call them  _ rooms  _ now.” She smiles. “But I’ll take that into consideration.”

“There will be a lot less collateral damage if they only have to ruin one lock on their way out.”

Riddler turns back to them, “I didn’t know you  _ cared _ Batman. Keep that up and you’re not going to be any use to Gotham.”

“Try to refrain from breaking anything.”

“Try to remember our  _ hats _ .” Penguin replies.

“Yes,  _ do _ . I’d hate to have to get out of here again just to visit a  _ hatter _ because you couldn’t be bothered to find them.”

He sighs quietly, because he knows they would break out a second time just for sentementality’s sake. Bruce opens up the back door again and finds Riddler’s bowler hat sitting on the floor, and when he picks it up he finds a folded piece of paper with a pen inside. It’s the mayor’s, distinct and obvious with his name engraved on the main body, and the note is in a very familiar, neat script.

_ Most adults forget how to have me, but a child will always know. _

_ Don’t forget to have a little  _ _ fun _ _ , Bruce. _

He hesitates, but pockets the pen to return to the mayor and stashes the note. “Alfred,” he taps his radio in his cowl.

“Yes master Bruce? I trust the return went well.”

“It went fine, but I need an address. Where can I find a silk top hat at this hour?”


End file.
